I recently came across a TikTok post in which the creator had listed her ludicrously complicated self-maintenance routine, organized by the time frame in which she supposedly completes each item. I say “supposedly” because her list included thirty-two items divided into tasks completed daily, weekly, every two to three weeks, and every two to three months, and I find it rather hard to believe that anyone but the most primped and plucked full-time internet influencer could find time to do all those things in those times (or that anyone needs to clean out their wardrobe every two months).
As I am no one’s exemplar when it comes to self-care routines, it did not surprise me that I only complete two of the items on this person’s list more than once or twice a year. The first: we apparently both drink green tea every day (her presumably for its health benefits and me because the local Meijer refuses to restock English breakfast).
The second is where things get a little strange: giving blood.
According to the influencer, she gives blood every two to three months “to detoxify/get rid of microplastics.” Interestingly, this is the only point of the thirty-two that gets an explanation, presumably as the average viewer is expected to know the benefits of “masseter botox” and “microcurrent device” without one. And while this claim sounds ridiculous on its face, there was a 2022 study that appeared to link donation to cleaner blood in Australian firefighters, though the thing that was being diluted was PFAS, not microplastics. There is no evidence anywhere that blood donation helps with that.
But even if the PFAS thing was replicated across multiple studies or it turned out that donation did magically vacuum up plastic in your veins, that’s still a really weird reason to give blood.
Fundamentally, I suppose your reason doesn’t matter for something like this; as long as you end up with the needle in your arm, you’re helping someone (or up to three people, in the case of giving blood). But if you approach the process as primarily part of a self-maintenance routine, that does imply that you don’t care that your so-called dirty blood will be injected into an ill person once you’re done with your detoxing.
I don’t give blood to get rid of microplastics, but I do give to make myself feel good.
So while I will continue to judge this influencer for her backward (and just wrong) blood donation rationale, she and I do run in close parallel on this. Giving blood regularly is genuinely a way that I take care of my mental health. We all know that helping other people makes us feel good and that we should do it when we can (the Red Cross’s advertising around blood donation is built almost entirely on the altruism of the act), but the longer I’m a blood donation regular, the more I appreciate the ritual of it.
Some people give blood at the same place every couple of months, but my irregular schedule has me traveling to whatever blood drive is happening on my Fridays off. Maybe that’s inconvenient, but I end up in places I’d not otherwise visit—a church gym with international flags hung all around its walls (good for quizzing yourself on geography), a community center built inside of the historic high school (good for appreciating the intricately carved wooden ceiling tiles), the corpse of the Sears in the Rivertown Crossings Mall (good for reflecting on the hollowness of American consumerism, and a pretzel afterward).
I like seeing if it’s my regular crew of phlebotomists or a group from further afield. I like chatting with the church ladies who volunteer to run the snack table, sometimes more than they seem to like doing it with me. I like watching the parade of ordinary people who come in to give up a pint of their vital fluids. Maybe they’re here for the same reasons as me. Maybe for different ones.
If this whole thing seems like an advertisement for blood donation, it kind of is. I realize that I’ve been blessed with a rare counterphobia when it comes to needles, but I’d still encourage you to give it a try, if you can (especially now that they’ve replaced the finger prick with a hemoglobin-reading machine).
You might feel better. You might even lower your PFAS levels. You won’t get rid of microplastics, though. Sorry.
